


thirty-seven

by AvaRosier



Series: Femslash February 2015 [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:11:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3343211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/pseuds/AvaRosier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa and Clarke, in an elevator k-i-s-s-i-n-g...</p>
            </blockquote>





	thirty-seven

It had to be past midnight when Clarke returned to her hotel, teetering on her heels and a sleepy smile on her face. She’d had several glasses of wine during the course of the evening and she was still tipsy. Her feet hurt so she pushed the button by the elevator bank before bending over to slide the way-too-expensive heels off.

_Ding!_

Moaning softly at how nice it felt to stand flat, Clarke padded inside the elevator. She heard a staccato tapping follow her and when she turned to see who had joined her she froze.

“Lexa.”

“Hello, Clarke.” Lexa said in a low voice. Her curly hair was loose and she wore a fancy black jumpsuit, one Clarke knew was backless. Lexa towered over Clarke by two or three inches as she stepped closer, their bodies almost touching, and reached past Clarke to press the button for the 37th floor. Once that was done, she didn’t move away. The elevator doors began to slide closed.

Meeting the challenge in Lexa’s eyes with one of her own, Clarke let her hands—still holding her purse and shoes—drop. The second the items hit the floor with a thud, echoed by the sealing of the elevator doors, Lexa was pushing her back against the wall. It felt like the world had shifted under her feet…but maybe that was just the elevator beginning its ascent.

Lips pressed roughly against her own and Clarke had barely stabilized herself against the wall when Lexa had gotten her hands up the black skirt Clarke was wearing. She wanted this so much, she didn’t do anything but widen her stance and curl her arms around Lexa’s back.

By the seventh floor, Lexa had one hand down Clarke’s sheer panties, cool fingers gliding in between the lips of her vulva. Clarke gasped at the sudden and sharp pleasure and sighed into her mouth, watching Lexa watch her. Those fingers, lightly callused from years of playing the cello, targeted her clit and stroked it decisively until they were just past the eleventh floor.

Clarke tilted her head again and kissed Lexa, wanting to show her just how out of control she made Clarke feel.  Another swipe had her thighs tensing around Lexa’s own, causing Clarke to bite down on that fat lower lip she had spent much too long staring at over the last few days of the conference. That got a harsh exhale into her mouth and Clarke rushed to assuage the sting with a few apologetic passes of her tongue.

Thirteen, and that hand dipped lower, lower, and one finger pressed up into her. Finding itself welcome, it slipped out before returning with a second. Clarke sighed and let her head loll back against the elevator, clenching around those fingers when Lexa dotted the line of her throat with soft kisses that left tingles in their wake.

“I will have you coming before we reach my floor.”

The declaration pierced the dark haze of her mind and Clarke opened her eyes to see Lexa watching her with limpid eyes and a half-formed smirk on her lips. And that was all the warning Clarke got before Lexa began to move her hand, working not just her fingers, but her palm strongly against Clarke, grinding against her vulva and clit. The rough movements had her limbs jerking as if a electroshock had raced through them direct from her clit, and Clarke tried so hard to keep her eyes open, half-open at least, to not completely lose control in front of Lexa like this.

Twenty.

Her breath was shallow, and her hands—so compact where Lexa’s were longer and graceful— skimmed over anything she could touch. The texture of Lexa’s hair as the curls tickled her palm, the bunch of muscles in the arm currently working Clarke over, the slender line of her neck where it ended with the bumps of her clavicles, her breasts as they were unbound by a bra underneath the material of the jumpsuit but curved perfectly into her hands.

Twenty-six.

Clarke moaned loudly, her toes scrabbling against the floor they were barely able to even touch thanks to Lexa taking more of her weight onto her thighs. Nothing to anchor her but the hand steadily fucking her faster and faster. Clarke’s thighs began to shake as the tension inside her coiled tighter and tighter.

“Lex-aaa,” she was barely aware of hearing her self babble, canting her hips harder against the punishing rhythm Lexa had set. For her part, Lexa bent closer to where Clarke’s back was leveraged against the wall and nipped at the skin where Clarke’s neck and jaw met, just below her earlobe. Clarke whimpered and splintered apart around Lexa’s fingers, clit throbbing against the unyielding friction provided by her palm.

Unable to adjust her position, to extend her legs and press her feet against the floor so those muscles could absorb the contractions rippling through her from her climax, everything could only flow back towards the source. Clarke arched her back, rotating her bottom desperately against the cradle of Lexa’s lap as everything tightened again and set her off.

Little moans escaped her lips, trembling sighs as her legs finally began to relax and she slid downwards to stand on her own two feet. Clarke’s head swam while Lexa kissed her sweetly, whole hand now only cupping Clarke until she stilled. Then Lexa removed herself from the contents of Clarke’s now ruined underwear.

Clarke wasn’t thinking straight as she smoothed her hair unnecessarily first before reaching down tug her skirt back into a more decent place. When she focused on Lexa again, she was gratified to see that the woman was breathing nearly as heavily as she was, and there were dots of pink high on her cheeks.

_Ding!_

Lexa bent down and picked up Clarke’s discarded heels and purse. She straightened up and looked at Clarke with a guarded expression. “Would you like to stay the night in my room, Clarke?” Swallowing and feeling as if she’d used up her voice, Clarke could only nod. The doors opened and thankfully, nobody was there to see how utterly debauched she probably looked. “Very well, I’m in room 3779.”

Lexa stepped out of the elevator and Clarke followed her. However, Clarke had to pause there because the muscles in her calves were still too tensed from being in heels for hours, then well…

“Come, Clarke.” Lexa had walked ten feet before noticing that Clarke wasn’t with her, and twisted to look over her shoulder, thin-lipped. Feeling more like herself, Clarke raised an eyebrow.

“I thought I did that already.”


End file.
